


Argonne

by atwas



Category: Call of Cthulhu: Path of Perdition (Web Series), Internet Remix, Rolling with Remix: Masks of Nyarlathotep (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, During Time-Skip, Gen, M/M, Post-Path of Perdition, World War I, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atwas/pseuds/atwas
Summary: "I left something of myself behind in France, in the Forest of Argonne. I don't know if I'll ever be the same."I don't know how else to show you the missing part of myself.
Relationships: Sunil Pandey & Kit Sullivan, Sunil Pandey/Kit Sullivan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Argonne

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this, Kit?"

The two of them sat together in an otherwise unoccupied train compartment. The country-side sped past in a green blur, dotted with forests and the occasional village. The closer the train got to the French border, the more tension Kit carried in his shoulders.

"Reims!" The call of the conductor seemed to snap Kit out of his stupor. He glanced towards Sunil, whose outward concern was still plain on his face.

"This is our stop."

"Kit--"

Kit had already risen to his feet, and retrieved Sunil's luggage before bringing down his own case. Sunil took the offered bag, but his gaze was still fixed squarely on Kit. Kit paused, and his shoulders slumped before he finally met Sunil's gaze.

"I want to."

"Kit." Sunil repeated, with a slight edge to his voice.

"I'll be fine, Sunil. I promise."

Based on Sunil's expression, Kit's words were neither re-assuring nor comforting, but he didn't continue to press. Instead, they sat in silence as the last few miles of French country-side gave way to buildings and a small city.

* * *

The two of them disembarked in Reims-- the journey by train from Berlin had taken a few days, and passed through Belgium before finally bringing them to France. Reims was a beautiful city, and great efforts had been undertaken to rebuild it. However, the buildings and streets occasionally revealed scarring: bricks of the wrong colour on an edifice; splintered trees that were only just beginning to sprout with new growth; scaffolding on the sides of the cathedral, still in the midst of repairs even five years after the end of the War.

Kit managed to hire a car using a combination of his basic German, some English, and some French phrases that he had painstakingly copied into a notebook before the two of them left Berlin.

The drive east was tense. Cobble and paved roads very quickly gave way to dirt and gravel as the two travelled through the country-side-- past farms, and occasionally past crumbling walls. In a few places, the road almost entirely gave way to tall grass and mud; and in some others, Kit very deliberately maneuvered around deep pockmarks in the road. The land was picturesque.

At the end of the second hour of driving, Sunil was interrupted from his reading by the car coming to a stop. They had crossed a bridge, then taken a small spur off of a country road, which had now run out. Kit allowed the engine to idle for a few moments before cutting the ignition.

"You up for a little walking? It's not far now." The scratchiness in Kit's voice was more pronounced, but he looked ahead with an even gaze.

"Sure Kit, I could do with stretching my legs for a bit."

* * *

It didn't take long to get to the edge of the line. Kit walked silently and stiffly through the tall grass, which seemed to almost part before him. There was still a forest here, but barely. The trees were nothing more than splintered stumps that dotted the landscape like small islands in the green. As they walked, Kit slowed, his attention darting from valley to valley in the grass.

"Craters," Kit explained quietly. "Artillery."

He moved with some more purpose now. They passed a pile of rusted-out shells in the process of being reclaimed by the earth, and the rotting remains of what looked like a wagon or cart of some kind. They climbed a gentle rise, and at the top, Kit stopped.

"There's the Meuse." He turned towards where they had come from, and pointed out the river that they crossed right before stopping. The Meuse snaked its way to the north and south, and glittered in the mid-day sun. "And there..."

Kit pointed towards the east, across the valley, and towards another hill. "There's 252."

"252?"

"Hill 252. My regiment, the 165th, we were tasked with taking Hill 252."

Kit began to walk down the hill, and Sunil realized that the valley between the two hills was cut through with old trenches. The banks of the trenches had been softened with time, but as they picked their way across the valley, he could make out old wooden supports that still held the earth back and rotted fence posts stained with rust.

"We crossed the Meuse river on November 3rd, but artillery destroyed the bridge behind us, and the bridge over the canal in front of us. We were pinned down in the low-ground here by the German army up on the hills over there: Hill 252, and Hill 260."

The trees grew more dense, and amidst the broken trunks, new saplings grew.

"We were trapped, but we needed to get to the hill. So what was left of us swam the canal on November 4th. Our artillery was too far behind to support us, so we moved under cover of night in hopes that we would be able to break through."

A small footbridge crossed the canal. Kit continued moving forward with purpose, eyes trained at the top of the hill.

"We crossed the canal, straight into no-man's land."

It was hard to imagine the scarred earth beneath the gentle grass, but everywhere, there was evidence of it. As the two of them walked, Kit deftly avoided fox-holes and narrow trenches. He gingerly moved through rusted remnants of barbed wire, using his gloved hands to move it aside so Sunil could follow.

Kit slid down into one of the last trenches with the practiced ease of someone who had done so many, many times before. He offered Sunil his hand, and helped him down. There, leaning against the sloped wall of the trench, Kit looked up at the sky with a far-away look.

"What happened next, Kit?" Sunil prompted. This was enough to bring Kit back, a little. Kit's lost look was replaced by a bitter smile that twisted the ruined half of his face into a grimace.

"I got orders to take my men up and over the next night. I remember offering the courier a cigarette before he left to pass the word down the line. So I told my men, and I led them. Up and over."

"We had a ritual we used to do, the boys in my platoon. Private Kelly had one of those Brownie cameras that he had lugged with him all the way from the States. Every time before we went up and over, he'd take pictures of us all. 'By the grace of God, we'll be back by morning. And if we're not, then at least everyone will know how damn good-looking we all were!' he would always joke."

Kit produced his wallet, and reverently passed Sunil a worn photo. One by one, he pointed out each of the 30 men in the photo. One by one, Kit listed every name and where they were from. The photo was grainy, but it was still easy enough to make out every face. They all looked so young. Private Kelly, the owner of the camera, barely looked a day over 16. Kit did not point out his own face among the group of grinning soldiers. Instead, he took the photo and stood up from his spot on the trench wall.

"So we prepared our grenades. We attached our bayonets, and we went up and over."

Kit took a few steps and lightly bounded up the side of the trench. He extended his hand down to Sunil, to help him up.

* * *

Kit led Sunil up and over. At the top of the hill, it was apparent that the opposing men had been dug in. The trenches here were reinforced by stone, and lined on the bottom with gravel and rock instead of with raw earth. Kit stood, looking over the encampment.

"I'm still not sure what happened, November 6th."

He gently bent down and plucked one of the poppies that dotted the hill-top. He cradled it in his hands.

"We charged into a line of terrified Germans. They didn't expect us to be there so quickly, I think. I remember one fumbling with his bayonet before dropping it and surrendering to us.

I don't know. Maybe a spare shell got hit. Maybe the Germans bombed their own hill as a last resort once they realized we were about to take it. An effort to smoke us out before coming back to retake the place. I didn't have my mask ready. It must have been torn off in the fighting. None of us were ready for the gas. Not us, and not any of those German boys either.

I remember the green haze. The way gun-shots light up the gas is something you never forget. Those foggy green flashes of light in the early hours of the morning..."

Kit gently stroked one of the bright red petals.

"We managed to take down the machine gunners, there and there, before the gas hit. But I didn't expect any of 'em to have a flamethrower. Last thing I remember was..."

Kit traced his steps, deliberately moving along the trenches towards the center of the ruined encampment. He looked out over the fields beyond Hill 252.

"I'll never forget the way the fire looked, coming through the gas. I was lucky. The kid holding the flamethrower didn't get a good bead on me before the gas choked him out. I fell face down in the mud, and by the ‘grace of God’, it prevented the gas from killing me entirely."

Kit crushed the poppy in his fist.

"I was lucky. Most of my men weren't. Some French and British lads came up as reinforcements and found us. It was November 9th."

Kit's fist trembled.

"Armistice was November 11th." Kit's voice cracked. "Two days. Just two more days."

Sunil gently took Kit's shaking hand between his own hands. After a moment, Kit allowed Sunil to open his hand and take the crushed poppy. They stood together in silence for a moment at the top of Hill 252.

"Kit. Thank you for showing me." Sunil's voice was gentle.

Kit nodded faintly. "I didn't want to come back. But I wanted you to know. I thought that you should know."

"I know."

"I knew the poppies would be blooming," Kit choked in anguish, his good eye welling up with tears.

Sunil reached up to the scarred half of Kit's face, and gently tilted Kit's face down so that their foreheads were touching. They stood like that until Kit's shuddering breaths evened out, and his shoulders slumped.

"Thank you, Sunil."

**Author's Note:**

> Bro wrote a song in response to this fic. Please go check it out: https://youtu.be/wYc8fmAmnA0


End file.
